


Larger than the Loss

by livethekind



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-19
Updated: 2012-05-19
Packaged: 2017-11-05 14:59:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/407780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livethekind/pseuds/livethekind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But then his father calls him, his sister asks his opinion on a book, and he loses sight of Jade, black hair and thin frame flitting through the train of people as if the smiling, laughing princess never existed.They return to the cold nights, Dave staring at the curvature of her back, wondering if he can get her to face him before they both die of old age. (Game of Thrones AU.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Larger than the Loss

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [if the sun won't rise](https://archiveofourown.org/works/210995) by [dellaluce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dellaluce/pseuds/dellaluce). 



> Takes place before the events of the books -- set at the beginning of the last great Winter, so if anyone's looking for spoilers there probably won't be any. I attempted to make Dave sound as modern as possible given the constraints of the setting. I feel like I succeeded to some extent, but modern irony tends to not translate well to medieval settings. For that I apologize.
> 
> This is a largely unfinished work. I might come back to it at some point, but if I don't, you can perhaps imagine the end.
> 
> Written for my final fanfiction class project, this is dedicated to the ~20 people who encouraged, loved, and respected "(most) every AU we could think of" within a two hour period.

They meet for the first time on the hills outlying Winterfell -- it's the beginning of Winter, a dusting of snow covering the ground and softening their footsteps. She's dressed in furs, dark brown and grey from head to toe. At the center, the direwolf sigil stands bright against the wolf pelts, steel and almost as cold looking as the landscape. He hates it on sight -- and then remembers that soon it won't be hers any more, not officially. She'll take on another sigil, and that fills him with awkward, hot pride. The lion conquering the wolf, for the sake of peace, for the sake of _honor_... At least until he remembers that she'll always be a Stark in spirit, proud of her Winter heritage. The men in the court had laughed at him when they announced the betrothal: _lad, she'll be as cold in bed as she will be in spirit! damn them northern girls with their cold hearts, you might as well be a bachelor._ Still, his father told him that it would be advantageous. The Starks were powerful, both in money and land. The peace treaty between their houses would be notable for years to come. They hoped, at least -- no one could tell, in the middle of a long Winter, what another house might do. Uncertainty would rule their tumultuous union, he was sure.

And there he stood: Dave Lannister, freezing in crimson wool and boots made specifically for the trip to the northlands. The girl in front of him - trailed by her large entourage of brother and parents, servants and advisors - looked back to Winterfell carefully. It was clear that she was just as nervous as he -- but her small smile surprised him. She didn't seem as cold as the others, all serious faces and chagrin. There was something about the smile that was almost _welcoming_ , even though she had to be scared. Lannisters weren't known for their warmth, any more than the Starks -- and she was soon to leave home and be surrounded by strangers.

"The young, brave lion." Her smile's still moderately warm, but he looks down to examine her and notices her hands are shaking. She's terrified. He makes an effort to look less severe, but it's not helpful; Dave knows that he's not exactly the most welcoming of people. He's always had the horrible habit of keeping neutral face, no matter the situation. Still, the girl seems comforted; her shoulders visibly relax, one of her wolfskins sliding down her shoulder just enough to be comical. The Stark girl had an almost whimsical look to her, long dark hair and bold green eyes -- a remnant of Southern ancestors, no doubt. Some brave woman shipped to the north and fed to the wolves. For a second, Dave is almost grateful that he's not a woman. To be sent away from home at a young age in order to produce children and follow commands…he never wanted that life. He wanted to be a knight; to be strong and bold, a Lord of Casterly Rock and a commander of armies. Sometimes, he wondered why they treated children like rancid cattle, meant only to be bred and then sold to the highest bidder; he didn't dwell on it for long. It was better not to ask. Dave didn't need to be commanded by his parents -- and by the look that the lady gave him, neither did she.

_they'll be a handful, lad. wolves have teeth, same as lions. best tame her quick, before she bites ye, leaves ye dead in the marriage bed._

He ignores that advice for now. No need to scare her away -- one false move and the Starks would be quick to break the peace off, send their armies South and pillage for additions to their Winter storage.

"And the little wolf girl." No, she's not a girl. Even though she's fifteen -- just old enough to be married away -- he's not much older. Only seventeen to her fifteen years, barely a man, but the only price his father had to match their offer. Or really, the only thing his father had considered offering -- _Lannisters don't make deals with their daughters, unless the profit is larger than the loss_ \-- and Dave knew, somewhere deep down, that Rose would be a far better price than he one day. Instead of continuing on thoughts of _why me? why is this happening?_ , he amended the statement. "Lady Jade."

"My lord." Her voice trembles a little bit, but she keeps eye contact. _Bold,_ he thinks. Bold like a wolf-- _No, she'll be a lion soon. A bolder lion than wolf. Lions eat wolves for breakfast._

"Dave. Should we walk? It seems required." He nods back to his own entourage, where his father stands, waiting. Lord Lannister's face looked severe, but Dave detected the slightest hint of a nod, encouraging him. He had to be polite to the little wolf. If they were going to make this alliance work, then they needed to be at least civil, if not in love.

To be honest, Dave didn't know if they'd ever fall in love.

"Yes-- of course," she corrects herself, looking at him for approval, defiance in her eyes. Jade Stark seemed to be in control of her actions, if nothing else. Dave wasn't entirely sure what to make of her -- but instead of asking questions, questioning her informality, he simply offered her his arm. "Should we walk back to Winterfell? The village isn't far, I think you'll like it very much. And then the castle, which you've already seen…"

She rambled idly, fading only when they had walked far enough away from their entourage to not be overheard. Dave was almost assuming she was another one of _those_ girls -- insipid, prone to the newest fashions and quick to spend money as if it flowed from the earth. _she's going to bore me before we even get out of winterf--_

"It's not fair." The words slip from her mouth as soon as she's sure no one can hear them, except for Dave alone. "They don't make boys leave home! Why should girls be any different? I'm the one who is supposed to give birth to children, I think I should be treated with more respect than a pig or a cow." And suddenly he understands -- the shaking, the voice trembling. Perhaps not the smile, but everything else…it was all anger. She wasn't frightened; by her tone she seemed to be the farthest thing from scared. Instead of a normal response to a new situation, she was angry. Angry and demanding change. Suddenly he decides that the soldiers' advice might have been right -- maybe wolves needed to be tamed, just like lion women. And maybe he will never succeed.

"Because your rights are not your own. You belong to your lord--" and the look she gives him is one of such pure malice that he stops talking immediately. No woman has ever dared to give him a look like that before. Dave wonders if he can turn back to his father, back to his brother and sister. Perhaps they would understand that they were marrying him off to a half-wilding abomination, some sort of cannibal, instead of a civilized Southern girl. They could turn back right now-- _no, i'll handle her myself._ He shakes his head. It wouldn't do for him to agree with her, to own up to his own doubts about the entire affair. So instead, he does what he's best at -- following in his father and older brother's footsteps. Reciting their lessons by heart. "Well, you do. Don't deny it."

She stares off at the hills, angrily shuffling her boots through the snow. A cool wind passes; Dave shivers. He wasn't meant for the North, with their strange gods and stranger weather. Winters up here must have been unbearable, not that Jade had lived long enough to see many. She would never see one, he thought. Even if she was as savage as a wildcat -- _no, a wolf_ \--she would never see home again in a few days. All of this would be lost to her.

"I belong to myself! And do not try to tell me otherwise, _Lannister_. I'm not a doll or a plaything. I'm a person. I have feelings, just as you."

They walk in silence. A call comes to them from the lingering party of relatives and servants -- they're getting cold, shouldn't the young couple come inside? It would hardly do for the bride to get sick on the eve of her marriage. Dave and Jade stared at each other, eyes never moving, waiting to see who would relent.

Finally, Dave turned away, beginning the walk back to the party without her. His thoughts turned sour. _I wasn't strong enough. Not today._

_Damn the gods. She's too stubborn to be a good woman._

"We will never love each other, will we? Like in the fairy stories?"

The wind blows her voice to him, clear and questioning. He turns around to look at her again. She's not particularly pretty -- she's slim, attractive enough, but nothing like his sister. Instead of graceful curves and elegance, a trait of the Lannisters surely enough, the Stark girl was awkward angles and brusque motions. Jade's hair escaped from its pins, giving her a half-feral look that matched the slight squint in her eyes. No doubt she'd ruined her eyesight doing something ridiculous like archery. Dave could almost believe that they let women learn that here.

Somewhere in his mind, he was pleased by that. He always wanted a woman who was independent, who could think for herself. But his father had married a subservient girl, his older brother would have too if he'd lived that long. It was just another way that Dave followed in their footsteps. He had to marry for obligation, not for independence. Not for love.

"No. I don't think so." His voice sounds hollow. Almost like his father's -- stern. The future Lord of Casterly Rock. He hates this. He _wants_ to love someone -- it's unfair, he thinks. At least his brother had loved a lower-born noble girl, even if she was slightly ridiculous, vaguely intelligent but mostly silly. He'd loved her until the day the tilting matches took his life, lance crushing armor and soft flesh as if it were nothing. Dave knows he'll never get that chance: the girl, the brave death. No traditional, tragic endings for him.

"Oh." The silence afterwards stretches on to what seems like the end of Winter itself. Finally, she walks past him, back towards the families, back towards Winterfell. He stands there watching as she gets smaller, wolfskin cloak waving lightly in the breeze, and shivers again.

He's not sure if he's ever been so cold in his life.

\---

The ceremony finished weeks ago, silver and grey and black exchanged for red and gold, a cloak more beautiful than Dave's ever seen placed around her shoulders. Her family sent her off properly, a large entourage of servants, additions to her ladies in waiting to follow her to Casterly Rock, never to return again.

They haven't spoken much. There's not much to say, really. She's still angry, he can tell from the way she holds her shoulders tight when she speaks to him, the way she practically grits her teeth. Her furs are exchanged for lighter clothing, satins as the weather gets warmer. Here in the riverlands, the Winter has barely touched the earth, and autumn remains. Though they are supposed to be two parts of the whole now, wedded and bedded and sent on their way, Dave hasn't visited her room since they began the journey to the seat of the Lannisters. As they began the journey _home_.

( He didn't want to think about it again; the first night was a disaster, after the revelers had left them alone together, to consummate their marriage. They had tried -- well, _he_ had tried, pleading with her. _we're going to look like imbeciles, do you really want them to see us like this? you're being stubborn, it's stupid._ But still she had refused, sitting with her back to him, naked and pale body reflecting in the light of the lingering candle. _no. i won't marry you. i don't love you._

At least, he thought peevishly, she was somewhat lovely with her clothes off. )

He _had_ seen her though, glimpses of her as they traveled. Her laughter echoed throughout the journey -- and he learned that Jade loved to laugh, when surrounded by people she didn't hate. She laughed and smiled like she was born to, and for everyone -- from her new lord father Lannister to the small, penniless children on the side of road. Her hands were never empty; in exchange for pieces of bread, sometimes pennies, children would flock to her horse, handing her anything they could think of as a good exchange. Sometimes it was flowers (and then, Dave admitted, she looked quite like a princess, daisies in her hair). But most of the time it was other things: clods of dirt, earthworms, tree roots and small, dirty dolls. Unlike the other ladies, who cringed and moved their horses away in disgust, or moved to the carriage-wagon where they wouldn't see such things, Jade reveled in it. Every gift was precious to her, even if she had to put the earthworms back, to leave the rocks on the side of the road.

There were other things too, smaller things. The way she knew how to charm everyone, even those who snubbed her, who called her uncivilized. She had a temper -- Rose's foot was still sore from the stamping it took, but at least Jade had gotten her to lay off of the snide comments about the lack of pregnancy. His new lady seemed to have a pride to match his own, and stubbornness to match. She had brought her bow with her, a longbow almost too big for her to handle. And when the knights had challenged her to an archery contest, she had beaten them all, shots to the heart of the target every time.

Maybe, he thought, she really was one of those girls from the stories. The ones that his sister had liked to read, before she deemed herself too old for those things and put them aside. Knight and Princesses, Ladies and Lords and magical Dragons like the Targeryans had.

As he watches her take another dirty rock from yet another little girl dressed in rags, Dave actually smiles. She's a princess. Not in name - never in name, she's too dark skinned and dark haired to be of the Targeryan line - but in action. In every selfless gesture she makes and friend she finds. Even in the way she storms out of conversations that displease her, her pride making her too stubborn to go back and apologize. Princesses had tempers too, he thought. And perhaps he'd gotten his wish -- an independent, intelligent woman.

But then his father calls him, his sister asks his opinion on a book, and he loses sight of Jade: black hair and thin frame flitting through the train of people as if the smiling, laughing princess never existed.They return to the cold nights, Dave staring at the curvature of her back, wondering if he can get her to face him before they both die of old age.

\---

"Why do you hate me?" His voice is soft but insistent as he stands on the entrance to her bedchamber, red and gold curtains hanging over what is now her new home. She looks out of place amidst all the blonde-haired, fair-eyed relatives: a dark wolf. A lone wolf, unhappy and refusing to admit that somewhere, inside, she's torn apart by leaving her family for good. Somewhere, she is crying for them.

Dave wonders why they brought her here.

"I don't hate you." She's just as quiet, eyes locked on his own, arms carefully crossing over her chest. As if he had the power to look through the light shift she wore, beneath the fabric, to what lay beneath. "You're rude, and a little dim-witted, but I don't hate you."

"I'm smarter than you think." He strode to Jade and sat down on the bed next to her, grabbing her wrist before she could pull away from him. "You hate it here. I understand - I hated Winterfell. It was as cold as the Crone's tits, I practically froze my toes off. At least this is sensible weather." He looks at her out of the corner of his eye -- her shoulders have relaxed, just a little bit. Perhaps complaining to her wasn't such a bad idea. After all, hadn't their frozen relationship began that way, with complaints? It was only fair.

"And then you wouldn't talk to me. You wouldn't even look at me. And gods, you're good to look at. I wouldn't say you're beautiful, not like any Lannister girls. But you're still…something. I don't understand." he trails off. That's where his attraction ends, he thinks. With the physical being -- but then he remembers the dirt, the earthworms and smiling children. And he begins again. "Why did you take the earthworms?"

"I like them." The beauty comments had earned an icy look -- but at the mention of earthworms, Jade had relented, a small smile appearing on her face. Dave turned to look at her properly, wrist still held in his grasp. "They're wiggly, alive. And it means that the earth is breathing. At least, that's what my maester told me, when I was young. I like soil. I like gardens, and worms, and sunlight. And the snow, too." Her eyes lock firmly on a view of the floor, two small buckteeth biting her lower lip. So this was her sadness, he thought. It was quiet, unlike the rest of her personality. Quiet and small, soft like snow. Easily forgotten about. "I won't see it again, will I?"

"Not for a long time, no." He found himself reaching out to brush a thumb against her cheek. She jerked back, and Dave pulled his hand away. As much as he wanted to teach her a lesson - his pride wouldn't let him admit that he was wrong, that day long ago in the snow - he also wanted to help her. She was sad. Somehow, contrasted against the laughter and anger, the earthworms, the snow, it seemed out of place and wrong. "I'm sorry."

"Why do you curse your own gods?" Jade blurted it out, still not looking at him. "The Crone's tits, I mean. I don't worship them, but I suppose I'll have to start, since--"

"They're not real. They're marble statues. I doubt they care."

" _What_?" That, at least, got her to look up at him, eyes alight with indecision. Could she trust this boy, who just blasphemed his own gods like that? What if the septons heard him? Dave could be hurt for that. His father would be extremely displeased.

"You worship a tree. I worship statues. It's all the same, really."

"It is not! I don't worship a tree!"

"Then what is it?"

"Gods!" The sadness is quick to hide itself behind anger. _Good_ , Dave thinks. _I can manage anger. At least she's not crying._ He leans in closer while she's not paying attention, caught up in her rant about trees, statues, gods. He looks at her closely -- her eyes were red. He didn't say anything. "They're gods, not just _trees_ , you can't say tha--"

He closes the distance and kisses her, hard. Dave's practiced on other girls: his sister, occasionally, when they were children and knew no better. Scullery maids and farm hands, people to kiss and flirt with, to entertain. But none save his sister were intelligent enough to make him want to do anything more. Now, this girl, her anger and fury about things that weren't important in the slightest, her earthworms and dirt and arrows and laughter… She looks almost happy when they part. But then the fire's back, and Jade slaps Dave across the face, leaving a stinging mark. "Don't-- do not do that again! I wasn't ready!"

He could hit her back. It is his right, as her husband. She's being impudent, refusing him what is rightfully his by law, refusing to do as he asks -- but he can't, he won't. He won't be the man who hurts a woman who is hurting already. Dave realizes that he never wants to hurt her, any more than he would hurt another woman. But particularly Jade, the princess of earthworms, the wolf far from home. So instead he smiles, hand covering the palmprint she left behind, and stands.

"Tell me when you're ready. I'll try to wait, Mother give me patience. Even if she's a ridiculous statue." He walks to the door and hears an angry 'humph' before he stops short of the doorway. One last thing, before he leaves her. He won't visit her again, if she doesn't wish it. But he can't find the words, his pride won't let him, so he leaves without saying more -- her eyes stare at his back so hard that he can still feel it as he walks back to his chambers.

After he leaves, Jade crumples into the coverlet, burying her head. It's the last time she cries for what she left behind.


End file.
